Return Address
by solitaires a bitch
Summary: HouseCameron... (as if I write anything else...) COMPLETE!
1. Time That Never Should Have Been Lost

disclaimer: House isn't mine...poop.

* * *

The light tittering of her laughter filtered over the speaker phone as he told her about his most bizarre clinic case this week. He smirked, leaning heavily on his cane as their conversation ensued, him making comments at all the right moments. They discussed everything; from the weather to the directional growth of palm trees. Ridiculous, yes, but they were busy catching up on time that, in his humble opinion, never should have been lost.

She sounded good enough, he decided, for moving to Baltimore and working her new job at St. Joseph's.She sounded like she was doing just fine. He smirked. Except, he was sure, for the part where she was missing him like crazy.

Abruptly and against both of their wishes, she was called away. She apologized and they said their good-byes.

And Dr. House sighed, limping away from Wilson's door. He _really_ had to learn how to stop eavesdropping on his friend and Cameron's phone calls.

"I know you're there," Wilson called out. "You can come in now."

House froze. How had he been seen? He had been so sure he was being damn sneaky...Nevertheless, he sighed and headed back into the room. "Fine. You caught me." He took a deep breath, making it sound as though he were about to admit to committing a murder. "Cuddy blocked my phone for the time being, and I need to use yours so that I can order take-out from that lovely little Chinese place a few streets down."

And entirely believable-and true-story. Too bad Wilson didn't see it that way.

"Nice try," Wilson said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I might even believe it, too, it you hadn't used it already."

Had he? He couldn't remember. Damn it, he was losing his touch. He had been sure that the only person he'd used that excuse on was that one intern, so that he could listen in more discreetly. What had that kid's name been, anyway?

"I mean, seriously. You could just call her up yourself. She's asked about you..." he shurgged. "...once or four times. I think she'd appreciate it."

"Mmm-hmm." Terry? Had it been Terry? It began with a 'T'...

"I mean, she's going through a lot. She just moved and relocated herself, and..." Wilson examined his friend closely. "Are you even paying attention?"

"Hearing every word." He tapped his ear for emphasis. Damn it, what was that kid's name? Taylor? Tyler?

Wilson eyed him doubtfully, a single eyebrow raised. Taking in a deep breath, he said, "So like I was saying, Cameron and I decided on a date for our wedding. June eighth. You're best man; wear something snappy. By the way, do you think that roses or daisies would be better for her bouquet? Allison and I can't decide."

"Roses, definitely." Tim...Tom...THOMAS! That was it. Wait..."What!"

Wilson laughed at House's outraged expression. "I knew you weren't paying attention. If you had, I'm pretty sure I'd have a cane shaped mark going across my head by now."

Willing himself to calm down, he said, "James! I'm shocked; I didn't know you were into that kind of thing."

His best friend rolled his eyes and walked out the door, muttering loud enough so that House could hear, "I'm not...but Cameron is."

Then there was a rather loud 'SMACK' as a shoe hit him in the head. He whirled around, coming face to face with House and an intern. House only had one of his Nike Shox on, and was mouthing ridiculously that the intern had done it.

Wilson rolled his eyes and strolled down the hall, rubbing his head.

* * *

The door to House's office opened, and Foreman entered with an armful of mail. He dropped the mail onto House's desk."There ya go," he said, stretching his arms and turning to walk out. "Man, I have no idea how Cam managed to carry all that crap."

House didn't reply, for sitting on top of the pile was a rather normal, white, ominous looking envelope.

And evelope with a return address that read:

**_ALLISON CAMERON_**

* * *

TBC...

sry about the short chapter; i'm slightly 'bleh'


	2. He Who Shows Up Unannounced

disclaimer: don't own. wish i did...(sigh)

Merrie: OMG I KNOW! I was laughing when I wrote that; it was such a him thing to do.  
starfin: thanks! I was a little worried that no one would like it...but apparently i was wrong...  
August: yupperz! you know there's more (only a few more chapters...i guess)

Author's Note: okay, i might LIVE in baltimore (very close to St. Joe's, actually) but i have noooooooo idea what goes on there. i'm far from being a doctor. so excuse me if my loverly assumption is way off.

* * *

Wilson walked by House's office, only glancing up to see his friend staring at his desk. He continued walking, having no intention of stopping.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that A) House was always doing _something _and now he was doing ...nothing, and B) he was staring at his desk, curiosity got the better of Wilson and he came to lean in the doorway. "Having fun?"

"Loads," House said without missing a beat. "I'm going to buy some cotton candy and then go on the Tilt-A-Whirl next."

"Really?" He made his way into the room. "And here I was thinking that your next ride would be the 'I MISS CAMERON' band wagon."

House finally looked up, brow furrowed. "Do we even _have_ one of those?"

"Yup. Foreman and Chase founded it when the third 'New Guy' was hired and then quit." He shook his head as he said, "Can I just ask you what it is you do to them that makes them run away?"

"According to Cuddy, it's my breath.Apparently to them I'm a fire breathing monster. Which is funny, because I don't remember eating anything spicy recently." He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you in my office?"

Wilson shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood." He moved closer to House's desk and leaned down. "What you got there?"

Almost immediately, House's two strong hands snatched the envelope off the messy stack and clutched it to his chest. "It's mine," he frowned. "Get your own."

Wilson smiled a little, heading for the door. "Fine," he called, walking out and hiding where House couldn't see him, recieving an odd look from a nurse when she passed him.

Once House was sure that it was safe, he slid a lean finger under the glued down flap and inched it along, the paper tearing. No sooner had he taken the letter out when Wilson bolted back in and snatched up the envelope.

"Hey!" House protested, though his attempt went unheard. "That's mine. I told you this."

Wilson's eyes lit up when he saw the return address. "Oh...Greg! I do believe that this is from a certain Dr. Cameron..."

House snorted, trying to ignore the irritatingly pleasant tingling in his chest when Wilson said her name. "Please." He threw the letter onto his desk. "As if I was going to read it."

Wilson picked up the letter, too, commenting, "Then why'd you open it?" He cleared his throat and began to read. "'Dear Dr. House...how are things? Things are great here in Baltimore, and the weather is actually warmer than in Jersey. How is everyone on the team? Good, I hope. By the way, I've met a devastatingly handsome man _MY OWN AGE AND WHO RESPECTS ME AS A WOMAN_ and we're so'-"

The letter was promptly snatched back from him, and House's alarmed crystal eyes skimmed the page. He snapped his head up and glared at Wilson. "You just made that entire thing up," he accused. "You demon. You evil, evil man."

"I did no such thing," Wilson stated. "But...what's that glint in your eye?" He gasped, pointing a finger accusingly at House. "You're _jealous_," he whispered, delighted. "Oh, this is too good." He walked out of House's office, saying, "I'm so telling her."

"So good to know we're both grown-up men," House muttered, then settled in his chair to read the **real** contents of Cameron's letter.

And he was in the middle of re-reading that letter for the tenth time an hour later when Cuddy called him into her office.

* * *

**_A FEW DAYS LATER, BALTIMORE, MD_**

Cameron sighed as she sat down in her large, comfy chair. She raised her coffee cup to her lips and inghaled its bittersweet aroma. She took a sip, savouring it's warmth.

It had been an uneventful day at St. Josephs; she'd had clinic, and had had to deal with runny noses and physical examinations all day. Now...she could rest.

There were a few, loud, sharp raps at her door, accompanied by the ringing of her doorbell. She sighed and stood up, walking over as the doorbell rang a few more times. "I'm coming," she said, unlocking the deadbolt and the lock above the key hole. She swung the door open. "May I..." Her voice trailed off as she realized who was standing on her Welcome mat.

"House...?"

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Cameron said, handing a cup of coffee to House, who was comfortably sprawled out on her recliner. "Cuddy orders you to take a vacation because you're terrifying everyone, and you choose to come...here?"

"Mmm," House said, holding the mug away from his face and inspecting it. "I like this coffee. Where'd you get it?"

"There's a Starbucks down the road. Anyway, you randomly choose to travel to Baltimore, and decide that instead of wasting money on a hotel, you'd show up at my house-unannounced-and stay with me?" She sat down on her couch, curling her feet underneath of her. She lifted her cup to her face and raised an eyebrow at him over it. "How'd I do, Doc?"

"Pretty damn good," he said, placing the mug on a coaster. "So where am I sleeping tonight?" He grimaced in the direction of her couch. "Hopefully not on that."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, taking one of his bags and heading for the stairs. "Don't worry; this used to be a family home so there are extra rooms." She tossed a grin at him over her shoulder. "You get the frilly pink one."

He stared at her while she continued up the stairs. "You're kidding, right?"

* * *

He had woken up in the middle of the night for what started out as a nagging need for a Vicodin fix. He got out of bed and rubbed his hand across his chest in discomfort. He had never been one to wear pajamas (or anything) to bed, but since he was staying in Cameron's house, he was pretty sure he had to.

It was either that, or get smacked.

After he had dry swallowed a pill, he was heading back to the bed when he heard it. Coming from across the hall, weakly and softly, was the sound of Cameron's crying.

Debating on whether or not to go to her or the bed, his inner softy won out with a tremendous cheer for the former. He limped across the hall and sat heavily on the foot of her bed. She rolled over in her sleep, and he was alarmed to feel something in his chest constrict painfully when he saw the tear tracks on her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes and shifted further up themattress until he was sitting against the headboard. A tentative hand reached out and softly cupped...he gulped...her bare shoulder. Sure, she was wearing a tanktop, but there was the whole issue of touching her bare skin...

He had to stifle his cry of surprise when she rolled over and hugged his middle, burying her damp face into his Rolling Stones tee. After a few minutes, however, it began to feel kind of right to have her arms wrapped around him.

Passing the feeling off as being induced by lack of sleep, he began to drift off, one hand still gliding up and down her back.

* * *

TBC... 


	3. The Woman That Baltimore Took Away

disclaimer: iiiiiiiiiiiiii own nothing.

**Merrie:** "And man House shoulda said screw it and went to bed au natural instead. Just think of what wicked fun Cameron would have with him in the morning!" WTF! um...yeah...LMAO  
**Asano:** NO HORSEWHIP! TAKE A CHAPTER!  
**Val'istar En'Alu:** heh. that same thing happened with my cousin one time. he showed up and was like ''i'm crashing here'' and we were like ''ooooooook''

ON WITH THE STORY!

* * *

Cuddy stuck her head out of her office and looked up and down the hall, desperately seeking if the coast was clear. When she couldn't see him anywhere, she sighed in relief and started towards clinic.

"Cuddy!" called out a male voice.

She paused in her steps, cringing, and fisted her hands at the sky. Turning around to face him, she said, "Yes, Dr. Wilson?"

"Guess what I found out," he said joyfully. His eyes twinkled with a secret that he was longing to tell.

"Oh, for the love of God, James," she said, losing her patience with his excitement. "We know House eavesdropped on your phonecall with Dr. Cameron and got jealous. Stop saying it!" She threw up her hands and began to walk away. His next words made her stop and turn around.

"Oh, but this has nothing to do with that," he said, practically giddy. "Guess what House got yesterday?" Cuddy raised an eyebrow in interest, and he continued. "I bet you fifty bucks I know where House went for vacation and more importantly, _why._"

Cuddy, knowing that House liked his private life...private and most likely hadn't even told his best friend where he was going, crossed her arms and said, "I'm listening."

* * *

Cameron was aware of a few things when she woke up. One, she was nestled rather comfortably against a warm body. Male, most likely, unless women got five o'clock shadow. Second, a large hand was under her shirt and pressed flat against the middle of her back, while the other was running up and down her side.

Third...Gregory House was in her bed, holding her in an intimate way and was wide awake, watching her. "Ah," he said, his voice still gruff from sleep. "Sleeping Beauty is awake."

When she continued to stare at him, he removed the hand gliding up and down her ribcage and snapped his fingers in her face. "Hey there," he said. "Are you alive?"

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. He frowned, removing his hand from her face and returning it to her side. "I'll take that as a yes..."

After a few minutes of an intense staring contest, Cameron said, "House..."

"It speaks," he commented dryly. "Had me worried for a few minutes there."

"House..." she said again. "What the _hell_ are you doing in my bed?"

"You see," he said, pointing a finger in her face. "When you say it like that, it sounds like you don't want me here." He cocked his head at her. "Which would be completely hurtful."

"No, I do want...I mean I don't...but..." She shook her head. "What the hell happened?"

He frowned in mock-hurt. "You mean...you don't remember? You and I got completely wasted, went upstairs, and screwed ourselves silly." He rolled his eyes at her wide ones. "I woke up, took some Vicodin, and you were crying. Being the nice-" She snorted and he narrowed his eyes. "-_nice_ guy that I am, I came to see the problem, and you practically tackled me in your sleep." He shrugged, as if in a note of finality. "There was nothing I could do about it."

"Except, you know," she yawned. "Wake me up."

He pursed his lips as though the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Right..."

She rolled her eyes and attempted to get up, but found that his hands were making that difficult. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You can let go, now."

He did so, though she could have sworn that he did it slowly, as if he didn't want to let go.

And, to be honest, she hadn't really wanted him to.

* * *

Upon discovering that it was too late to go to work, Cameron called in sick, then realized (or rather, decided) she had to give House a tour.

After dragging him through the movie theater that was nearby, then the mall, then around a small street that had somewhat of a Farmer's Market going on in it, House was complaining of a cramp in his cane hand and Cameron was hungry.

They stopped at Bill Bateman's Bistro, and somehow (though he hadn't said anything) the servers were already sufficiently terrified of House, and they were seated almost immediately.

"So..." Cameron said, a proud grin on her face and her hands toying with her napkin. "How do you like it?"

"Well," House said, eyes scanning the menu. "The steak sounds good. But so does the turkey club..." He looked up at her and saw her raised eyebrows. "Oh, you meant how do I like the city? It was fine, except for the part where you took me to the _MALL_."

"Oh, c'mon," she teased. "I know you liked standing around while I looked at stuff."

_'Didn't care about that,'_ House thought to himself. _'I didn't like all those...frat boy neanderthals staring at your ass. That ass is mine and mine alone to blatantly stare at.'_

"Yeah, well," he replied. "Don't expect me to comfort you when you cry tonight."

The jovial mood disappeared almost instantly, and Cameron looked depressed.

"Cameron," he said, in a voice too soft to be his own. She looked away. "Don't do that. I just want to know why you were..."

She turned to look at him. "It's just..." She wiped at her teary brown-green eyes. "I miss New Jersey, y'know? Baltimore is fine, don't get me wrong...but I miss the gang." She turned her face away from him again.

He regarded her profile for a few minutes, before saying the three most crucial words that anyone in his position would say:

"Please come back."

She glanced at him, slightly startled. "I...I can't."

"You have to," he said matter-of-factly. "I need you there. You balance me out. And no one likes an unbalanced Greg."

* * *

"You're a liar."

Foreman looked up from his comic and at Chase, who was throwing a ball in the air and catching it. Offended, he said, "Am not."

The Aussie snorted. "Please. House isn't into Cameron. There's no reason he would possibly visit her."

Foreman looked back down. "Whatever you say, Cleopatra."

There were a few minutes of silence before Chase said, "Oh...Cleopatra, Queen of Denial. I get it."

Foreman sighed in disgust. "How in the hell did you get to be a doctor?"

* * *

She had refused to speak to him the entire journey back to her house. It had become to much for him when they walked through her door and she announced in a quiet murmer that she was going to her room to rest for a while.

He grabbed her upper arm as she tried to make her way for the stairs. "Wait," he said, pulling her back to him. "Why won't you come back?"

She sighed and shook her head, meeting his eyes for the first time since Bill Bateman's. "I have a new job. I can't...leave it."

"You can have whatever you want," he interjected quickly. "Whatever it takes to get you to come back. Cuddy's practically smothering me with morons, and we need you back."

She paused, searching his face as she considered his offer. Then, slowly, she began to nod. "Okay," she said. "I'll come back."

He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and then she went and said, "But I do have one requirement."

He raised his eyebrows at her, wondering why he got the feeling he wasn't going to like this.

* * *

TBC... 


	4. Rubber Chickens And Betting Pools

disclaimer: i don't own House...damn it.

**Merrie: **GOOD LORD! You have a serious obsession with that, don't you?

* * *

He raised an eyebrow at her suddenly determined features. "A requirement?" he repeated, his voice laced with a combination of disbelief and worry for himself. He shrugged. "I'm in, as long as this doesn't involve a rubber chicken and a purple tutu."

Her brow knit in confusion. "What?"

"Drunk. College. Bad choices," he said in a way of explanation. "Don't ask for details."

She raised a hand to stop any possible words that might spew out of his mouth. "I really wasn't going to." She brushed past him on her way to the stairs. "If you want me back..." She took a deep breath and turned to face him again. "Show me a good time when we get back to New Jersey."

His eyebrows rose, causing his eyes to widen. "OK," he said slowly. "But won't that make things a bit awkward at work?"

"What? Oh, God, not that," she said, and she could have sworn that a disappointed shadow flitted across his face. "All I meant was that when we get back, show me a good night on the town. Not a date," she added before he could ask. "Just two people having a good time." She started towards her room.

"Right," he said, nodding affirmitively. "And if we happen to have sex afterwards, so be it."

She sighed in disgust and continued up the stairs, a smile threatening to break out as she heard his incredulous, "What?"

* * *

Cuddy eyed her fellow doctor from over her coffee mug. "You're not serious," she stated, taking a sip.

"Very much so," Wilson countered. "He might not have told me, but I know House and he's there. And," he added. "It's better than where _you_ think he went."

"Where who went?" Foreman asked, walking into the breakroom with Chase.

"House," Wilson answered, only glancing up at them briefly. "I say he went to Baltimore to see Cameron."

"Thank you!" Foreman said, sitting next to him. "It's better and more likely than where Chase thinks he is." All heads turned in the direction of the Austrailian.

Chase glared at Foreman. "Vegas is a perfectly possible option," he defended himself snappishly.

Wilson snorted into his cup. "It's a lot more likely than what Cuddy thinks he's doing."

"And what would that be?" Foreman asked, turning to his boss.

"She thinks House is hiding in his house and plotting ways to annoy people."

Foreman and Chase both raised their eyebrows at Cuddy. "What?" she demanded. "It's possible, and you all know it."

"Right," Wilson said skeptically. "My vote's on Baltimore."

Chase made a strangled noise in frustration. "He's not even bloody interested in her!"

"Sure he's not,_** Cleopatra**_," was all Wilson said.

Foreman stared at Wilson in appreciation. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for saying that to him."

"Fine," Chase snapped. "But will you both stop calling me that? And if you're so sure of where he went, why don't you put your money where your mouth is?"

"You're on."

* * *

Cameron was comfortably seated in bed, flipping through a magazine when his voice startled her.

"Define a night on the town."

She glanced up at him as he leaned comfortably against her doorframe. She shrugged. "I don't know. Dinner, a movie, museum...something."

He limped into her room and sat in the same spot he'd been on last night. "Dinner and a movie?" He frowned. "Sounds a whole bunch like a date to me. Tell me, do I have to clear it with dear ol' Dad beforehand?"

"Fine," she said, putting her magazine down and scootching closer to him. "I don't really care. Take me out somewhere, anywhere. Have fun, get out, and possibly not be sarcastic."

"Yeah," he laughed. "Like that's ever going to happen."

She smiled lightly, nudging him with her shoulder. "I know."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, her shoulder still lightly touching his.His cane would occasionally thump the bed frame, showing his awkwardness about the situation.

"So," she said, when the silence became too much. "Want to go back to the mall?"

He turned his head sharply to look at her. She turned her head to meet his bright blue eyes. "What?" she questioned.

His eyes narrowed in a startling tender way on her features. "I knew it," he said. "You like having those idiots stare at you."

She looked confused, and asked, "What are you even _talking_ about?"

She seemed genuinely lost at his statement, and he couldn't help but feel some satisfaction shoot through his veins. Apparently, she had been so preoccupied with him that she hadn't even noticed the younger men when they openly perused her body. "Nothing," he said, turning his face so that she couldn't see his satisfied smirk.

"Oh, no way in hell are you gettig away that easily, House."

* * *

"Okay," Wilson said, looking down at his list. "We've got Foreman, and myself for Baltimore, along with Nurse Betty; Cuddy, Carl from Bookkeeping, Judy the secretary, and Brandon the intern for plotting; and Chase, Thomas the intern, Nurse Sheila, and..." He raised his eyebrows. "Kevin from Bookkeeping, all for Las Vegas."

Cuddy examined her own sheet. "Wilson put in fifty dollars, Foreman put in seventy, and Nurse Betty put in forty. I put in fifty, Carl put in thirty, Judy put in twenty, and Brandon put in twenty-five. Chase put sixty in, Thomas put thirty-five, Sheila put twenty, and Keven put in twenty. That brings us to..." She raised her eyebrows. "Four hundred and twenty dollars."

A breathless doctor appeared in the doorway. "We...heard...about...the bet," he panted, holding a list out. "Here's the list." He handed the piece of paper to Chase, and then walked away, a hand clutching his side.

Cuddy smirked at the paper. "Well," she said. "This increases the amount by...quite a bit."

* * *

TBC...

(did anyone get the Kevin/Carl from Bookkeeping thing? If you did, congrats.)


	5. Of Classmates, Colleagues, And Jealous H...

disclaimer: I don't own any of it...(whispering: i want house...)

Author's Note: (blushes) you guys spoil me with reviews. Not that i don't appreciate it, but...whoa...THANKS SO MUCH YOU GUYS! and...sadly, there are only a few more chapters left of this story. and let me tell ya, chapter six is a doozy.

also, i can't do the stupid accent thing for the word 'fiance' but just know that it would be there normally.

* * *

**OF CLASSMATES, COLLEAGUES, AND JEALOUS HOUSES**

A week later and House and Cameron found themselves in a downtown Baltimore, waiting to be told that they could board their train.

"So..." Cameron said, her chin cupped in her hand. "When do I start work again?"

House didn't look up from his Game Boy as he answered. "Immediately. I need to get those incapable idiots as far away from the hospital as possible."

"Hey now," she said, swatting at his arm. "It's not nice to talk like that about Foreman and Chase."

He looked up at her, startled. "I was talking about the..." He trailed off, seeing her smile, and his eyes narrowed on her. "Did you...did you just make a crack about your co-workers?" He smirked. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

She smiled a bit more, turning her face away from him. "Don't get used to it."

* * *

When they were finally seated on the train, House was beginning to grow irritated while Cameron grew increasingly flattered. Apparently, one of her old classmates was on the same train as they were, and was on his way to New York.

He and Cameron had recognized each other almost immediately, and began chatting up a storm. The man, with blond hair, green eyes, and a rather large ego, was named Brandon Walsh, and seemed to not understand that the glares House was sending his way were warning him to back off.

Because of this ignorance, House soon found himself watching the nauseating display of Brandon blatantly flirting with Cameron, who was doing nothing to stop it.

"So," Brandon said, smiling winningly. "Who's your seat mate?"

"Oh," Cameron said, turning to House briefly. "This is Gregory House, he's my-"

"-fiance," House interrupted, having glanced down at Brandon's left hand and finding a distinct ring tan. A further investigation towards his breast pocket revealed that it held something the size and shape of a wedding ring. He tossed a glance at Cameron's bewildered face, grabbed her hand and squeezed it, hard. A sickly sweet smile plastered itself on his face. "Isn't that right, sugarpie?"

Another hard squeeze of the hand had Cameron stuttering out, "Yeah...I, I mean yes."

"Oh," Brandon said, looking downcast. "Excuse me for a moment." He stood up and made his way towards the bathroom.

As soon as he was out of sight, Cameron wrenched her hand out of House's. "Are you crazy!" she hissed at him. "My fiance? What are you _thinking!"_

"He's married," House said. "Left ring finger has a tan on it, and the ring is in his pocket. I'm sorry," he added, seeing her somewhat saddened features. "I wasn't exactly thinking."

"I'll say," Cameron muttered. She gave him a small smile. "Thanks, though."

"Just remember," he warned. "You owe me."

They looked up as Brandon made his way back, and Cameron leaned closer to House and whispered, "Let's have some fun."

House smirked at her and said, loud enough for Brandon to hear, "That's my girl."

Cameron scooted as close as she could to House, what with the armrest separating them. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he tipped his head so that his nose was just barely touching her hair and inhaling its scent. "Honey," Cameron said, addressing House. "Why don't we invite Brandon to our wedding?"

Trying to hide his smile against her hair, he said, "That sounds like an excellent idea. What do you say, Brandon?" He propped his chin on Cameron's head, staring at the young man across from them. "Would you like to come?"

"Um..." he scrunched up his face, as though he were giving it serious thought. "I don't think I can...I have a business meeting that day."

"Oh, but Brandon!" she said brightly. "We haven't even told you the date yet; how do you know that you can't come?"

His self satisfied smile faltered, and he said, "Oh...right...When, um," he cleared his throat. "When is it?"

House was prepared with an answer. It wasn't technically his own, but he figured that Wilson could forgive him. "Well, Allison and I decided on June eighth. Wear something snappy, but comfortable because it could get hot. By the way, could you help us decideon something?" Not waiting for an answer, House continued. "Allison can't decide on whether or not to have roses or daisies for her bouquet. What do you think?"

Brandon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Um...daisies?"

Cameron tilted her head backwards so that she was grinning upside down at House. "That's a wonderful idea!" she gushed. "Let's go with the roses."

"Brilliant," he said, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and dropped a kiss onto her smiling lips.

She pulled back almost immediately, blushing. "Honey," she admonished. "Not in front of Brandon."

House shrugged. "I don't think he minds. Do you, Brandon?" Again, without waiting for an answer, he leaned down and kissed her, much harder than before.

Cameron slipped a hand around his neck, desperately wishing in her mind that this wasn't just pretend. She wanted it to be for real.

But...she would take what she could get.

* * *

"Alright," Wilson said, glancing at his watch. "I called House while Cuddy stood and listened in to make sure he didn't tell me where he went, and he said he would be here in roughly ten minutes."

"Or," came a voice from behind them. "Right now." He raised an eyebrow at Wilson's shocked face. "I lied. That's nothing new."

"So," Foreman said, leaning close. "Where did you go? Just out of curiosity."

House gave a one shouldered shrug. "Somewhere." When Wilson gave an irritated sigh, he said, "Oh, you want me to be specific? I went to Baltimore."

"I **KNEW** it!" Wilson said, pointing a finger at Chase. "And you said he was going to Vegas."

"Wait," Chase said, ignoring Wilson and Foreman's gloating. "Why, though? Those two idiots think you went to see Cameron."

A face popped up from over House's shoulder. "What about me?" Cameron asked, eyes sparkling at her co-workers.

Foreman was the first to snap out of it, standing up and crossing to his friend. "Damn, girl," he said, hugging her. "What are you doing here?"

Cameron let an easy grin slide across her face when he pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "I work here."

"Oh, that's it," Wilson said, addressing Chase and Cuddy. "Pay up."

* * *

"So, House," Cameron said, running to catch up with him. "About our night on the town..." Her eyes were sparkling in excitement. "What should I wear?"

He paused, turning to look at her. "Something hot."

"Like low-riding jeans?" she asked, smiling. "Yeah...I remember you saying that to me once."

"No," House said. "Though they would be fun for work." He shook his head. "Wear something snappy; like a dress. Make everyone jealous."

"Great," she said. "That's all I wanted to ask." She turned to walk away.

"Dr. Cameron," he called out. She turned around to face him. "Just wondering...where are you staying?" He watched as she furrowed her brow and frowned.

"Whoops," she said sheepishly. "Guess I...forgot..." She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I guess I could ask Foreman or Chase..."

"That won't do," House interjected. "You know...you...you could...why don't..." He sighed, deciding to give up on trying to suggest it. "Stay with me."

Both of Cameron's eyebrows shot up, dangerously close to disappearing into her hairline. "I...what?"

"Stay with me," he offered again. "I owe you, remember?"

"Actually..." she began, but he refused to let her argue with him. So, he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her towards the doors.

"It's okay," he said, repeating her words from earlier. "You can have the frilly pink one."

She stared at his back as he pulled them along the parking lot. "Even though you stole that from me and I know you're not serious, that's a scary thought." He didn't say anything in response, and made no move to affirm her statement. "House? I was kidding when _I_ said that...please tell me you're kidding, too. You _are_ kidding..right? Please say yes..."

* * *

TBC...

REVISED CHAPPIE means Cameron/House smoochies. YAY


	6. The Not A Date And Awkward Moments

Disclaimer: FOX owns House...I wish I did.

**purpletangerine:** thanks so much, hon! i'm never really sure if i've got the characters right, and that meant a lot to me!  
**StardustButterfly: **DON'T DIE! OKAY! JUST...DON'T DO IT! HERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER!  
**Val'istar En'Alu: **eh. i had a small problem with writing the 'engaged' scene, anyway...i couldn't stop laughing at house saying 'sugarpie' so it came out a bit shortened.

Author's Note: Well...I'm sad to say that there is, infact, only one more chapter after this one of Return Address. (sigh) o well.

btw, i have no idea where the hell they are for dinner. it's just some fancy shmancy restaurant. deal with it. :-p also, i made the waiter's name Matthew cuz that's BaltimoreAngel's brother's name, and his GF's name is Allison. I thought it would be funny. i also have no clue if house would even eat calamari and shrimp, or if cameron's allergic to shellfish. DEAL WITH IT, cuz it works for muh story.

ON WITH THE STORY!

* * *

**THE NOT-A-DATE AND AWKWARD MOMENTS**

The day of their official second not-a-date approached too quickly for House, and not fast enough for Cameron. The latter had been exposed to many hours of a taunting Foreman, an overly happy Wilson, and Chase, who was irritated that he hadn't been part of the three-way split of almost a thousand dollars.

The former, being House, only had to deal with Cuddy (who was sulking about losing to _Wilson_ and _Foreman_), and the overly excited Jimmy Wilson.

"Where are you taking her?" Wilson persisted, following House into the clinic.

"Somewhere," House said, bending down to the child in the room. "Say 'Ahh'." When he didn't open his mouth, House sighed. "Listen, kid, I don't want to be here anymore than you do, so open up your damned mouth before I beat something with my cane."

The child complied, and House took a look down his throat. "Redness, with some white speckling." He felt along the boy's throat. "Swollen glands." He stood up and went over to where the appropriate cotton swabs were. "Strep test; yay." He swabbed the back of the boy's throat, and said, "We'll be back with the results in a minute."

"Tell me," Wilson insisted as they walked out of Exam Room three.

"No," House retaliated. "Because then you'll tell Cameron."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "So maybe I would. Why can't you tell me, though?" He stopped in his tracks, thinking over his words. "Wait..."

"I'm not telling you," House repeated. "So stop..."

* * *

"...asking!" Cameron said, glaring at Foreman. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't know where he's taking me?"

"You have to know," Foreman said, following her as she tried to get away. "And when you do know, you have to tell me. It's vital information."

She glared at him. "You made another bet with Chase and Wilson, didn't you?"

* * *

**_AROUND 7:30 THAT NIGHT_**

House tapped his cane against the ground as he sat on his couch, waiting for Cameron to come downstairs. His necktie was around his neck, untied, him having given up trying to tie it a while ago.

He checked his watch again and groaned. He had worn a _suit_, for the love of God. Couldn't she be on time? Did all women take this-

"Hey," came Cameron's voice from upstairs. "I'm about to make my grand entrance, so pay attention."

He pushed himself off the couch and balanced on his cane as she began her descent. When she came into full view, his jaw almost dropped.

She looked stunning in a silk, dark blue dress that fit her perfectly. Her hair was back in a clip, a few loose hairs having escaped. She wore jewelry, yes, but the things that were shining brightest were her eyes.

He gulped. This was going to be an interesting night...

* * *

He looked amazing.

As she got a good look at him, she decided that he had to wear suits all the time from now on. Her eyes swept over his form, stopping at his undone tie. She rolled her eyes and stepped off the stairs and towards him, taking the two long pieces in her hands and doing them up correctly. She shook the hair out of her eyes as she smiled and looked up at him, her hands tightening the tie. "There you go," she whispered, patting him on the chest. "All set."

Her hand lingered on his chest as their eyes remained connected. She could have taken it off by now, but his chest felt so nice, and warm...and firm...underneath her fingertips...

"Cameron?" he said, and was embarrassed to find that his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. "We should go." To his dismay and relief, his words caused to her hand to slip away from his chest and drop by her side.

"Right," she said. "Let me go grab my jacket."

"Don't bother," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "It's warm enough." He stuck out his left elbow in offering. "Milady?"

She smiled at him, her cheeks tinting pink at the gesture. "Milord," she said softly, and took his arm.

* * *

"I cannot believe that you brought me here," Cameron hissed excitedly over her menu. "How did you even get a reservation?"

"Treated the owner's kid for..." He frowned, unable to remember. "Something. Being eternally grateful to me for saving the brat's life, he set me up for a table for two tonight. On the house, too." He frowned. "Don't make that into a pun."

"But why here?" she asked, putting her menu down. "It's the most romantic place around; not exactly what I would consider the appropriate setting for our 'not-a-date'."

House raised an eyebrow and scowled at her. "Would you rather I took you to Burger King?"

Cameron blushed in embarrassment and looked down at her menu again. "Oh," she said softly. "Well...thanks anyway."

House went back to his menu with a short, "Don't mention it." His eyes gradually drifted from the spices inside the soup du jour, to Cameron's bowed head. Fromover the very top of his menu, he could see that she was scanning her menu, her forehead furrowed adorably in concentration. He felt his lips attempt to twitch up into a smile, but the words 'NOT A DATE' flashed ominously in his mind. He opened his mouth to say something when a crash sounded from behind Cameron. She turned in her seat to see what had happened, giving House a view of her exposed back.

His eyes widened as they settled by her shoulder blade. What the hell...How had he possibly missed that detail about her?

He dropped his eyes back to his menu as she turned around. "So," he said conversationally. "When'd you get that tatoo?"

Her startled eyes rose to meet his. "What?" she asked.

"Oh, come on," he said, putting his menu down. "Your tatoo? The one just below your left shoulder blade?" He smirked at her shocked expression. "Like I wouldn't notice. I must say," he said, returning his gaze to his menu. "I didn't exactly take you for a Beatles fan."

She blushed, and raised her menu up to cover her red face. The waiter approached the table, decked out in the traditional and stereotypical garb. "Good evening," he said, taking in the two. His eyes lingered on Cameron's now upturned face, and he smiled slightly. "I'm Matthew, and I'll be your server tonight..." He trailed off, still staring at Cameron. House frowned, and hit the man in the shin with his cane. "Right," Matthew said, pulling his writing pad out of his pocket. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"I'll have a Sam Adams," House said, still glaring dangerously at Matthew. In his mind, he had already come up with twenty-nine _very_ painful things to do to the new threat.

"I'll have some lemonade," Cameron said, careful not to look at their waiter deirectly. The fact that he was interested didn't go unnoticed by her, and he _was_ attractive...but he wasn't her type. No, her type had greying brown hair, piercing blue eyes, a cane, and was sitting across from her, no doubt plotting numerous evil things to do to Matthew, most likely all of them painful.

"Okay," Matthew said, finally taking notice of House's hostility and Cameron's unwillingness to flirt. "I'll be back in a few minutes, and you two can decide what you want to eat." He hurriedly made his way to the kitchen, and out of the range of House's potentially dangerous cane.

* * *

House was tremendously enjoying his fried calamari with shrimp, his beer, and the company of one brunette doctor. His mildly scathing remarks on his doubt that she ate were soon disproved, if the way she was enjoying her steak was any indication. As it turned out, once you took Allison Cameron away from work and her precious lab coat, she made quite the companion.

At random intervals of their meal, she would lean forward to whisper comments about the stuffy patrons at the restaurant, and even once made him choke on his beer with a lewd comment.

Now, he forked a small portion of shrimp and held it in front of her. She waited until after she finished chewing and swallowing her piece of steak before asking, "What is it?"

"Shrimp," he said, waving the speared crustation in front of her face. "Have some."

"Oh, no," she said, pushing his hand away lightly. "No thanks."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Allergic to shellfish," she explained, taking some of her salad and eating it.

He looked scandalized, as if her admission was insulting. "You're _what_?"

"Allergic. Feed me the right amount of lobster and I'm your next patient." She grimaced, perhaps at some distant memory that he had no idea ofor access to. "Found that one out the hard way."

He pulled the shrimp away from her and stuck it in his own mouth. "Fine," he said, his mouth full. "More for me."

She rolled her eyes at him and took a sip of her lemonade, glancing towards the door. She almost spat out her drink when she saw who was coming in, instead choking on the sweet liquid. She recovered quickly, however, and hissed out, "I don't believe it."

"What?" he looked towards the entrance, expecting to see Wilson, Cuddy, or Foreman. Instead, he saw a red-haired woman and her husband (who was easily ten years _House's_ senior...better yet, _Cuddy's_ senior), standing around and making idle chat with the hostess. He squinted at the already heavily plastic-surgeoned woman. "You _know_ her?"

"Mary-Beth Rodgers," Cameron said, attempting to hide her face with her fanned out fingers. "She made my life a living hell in high school, stole my date at prom, and I had to put up with her during college, too. Last I heard, she married a plastic surgeon,if you couldn't tell." She lifted her fingers and groaned. "Oh, crap, she's coming over."

"Mary...Beth?" House repeated incredulously. "Please don't tell me that she has a-"

"Allison Cameron!" shrilled a dinstinctly southern voice. "Is that _you_?"

"-southern accent," House finished with a wince.

"Mary-Beth," Cameron said, greeting the quickly approaching woman with a strained smile. "Hey...how are you?"

The red-head laughed in an irritatingly nasal way, and waved her left hand around so that her large diamond ring flashed in the light. "Oh, you know," she tittered. "Jetted around the world, courtesy of Daddy, before I met Harold here. Harold Hampton. He's very successful," she added. "A thriving plastic surgeon." Her smile dropped a bit as she regarded Cameron. "What have you been up to? Working at a fast food restaurant yet?"

Suddenly, House became startlingly aware of why Cameron hated this woman. "Actually," he said, directing all the attention to himself. "Cam...Allison's quite the doctor." He winked at her. "My favorite duckling."

Mary-Beth raised a snooty eyebrow at him, placing one hand on her waist. "And...you are?" she asked coldly.

"Dr. Gregory House," he answered, and watched with a strange sense of satisfaction as Harold's eyes widened in recognition.

"Dr. House," he puffed, sticking his hand out for House to shake. "It's an honor." When House made no move to shake his hand, Harold tucked it away. "Sweetie," he said placing his hand on the small of his wife's back. "This is the nationally reknowned doctor I told you about a few weeks ago, remember?"

Mary-Beth stuck her hand out, palm down, as if she expected him to kiss it. "Mary-Beth Hampton," she drawled in what she must have thought was a seductive voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

House held out his hand, not for Mary-Beth, but for the check that Matthew was handing to him. "I wish I could say the same," he said, scrawling his name on the bottom of the paper. "But then I would be lying." He grabbed his cane, handed the check back to Matthew, stod up and held his hand out for Cameron to take. "Shall we?"

* * *

TBC...(one chapter left...) 


	7. Where This Story Ends

Disclaimer: FOX owns all of House's...people things.

AN: EEEEEEEEEK I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE Y'ALL WAIT THIS LONG FOR THE LAST CHAPPIE! DON'T KILL MEH!

* * *

They were barely out of the restaurant when Cameron took off running. "C'mon!" she called out to him. "Let's go!" 

"You run," he called out. "I'll be unecessarily slow with my cane."

She rolled her eyes and spun around, the bottom of her dress flaring out as she did. She continued to do so while he watched, amused, until her heel got caught on a crack and she fell sideways into a lamp post.

"Oh, that was smooth," House commented, appearing next to her. "You could have hurt the lamp post." He patted the post affectionately, saying, "There, there. I'm sure she didn't mean to do it."

Cameron, instead of glaring at him or making a comment on his behavoir, grinned and grabbed his hand, dragging him along with her. "Where are you taking me?" House demanded. "It better not begin with an 'M' and end in an 'all'."

"To the tutu store," she tossed back, not even looking at him. "Just trust me, okay? I know where I'm going."

"Yeah, but _I_ don't know where we're going," he said, trying to move his cane fast enough to match her pace."And that's where you and I seem to be having the problem."

She didn't reply, instead dragged him across several streets and corners until they had reached her destination. "This is it," she breathed, letting go of his hand and running towards it.

"A playground," House stated in disbelief. "You took us to a child's playground."

"I've driven past here almost every day," she called out. "I've always kind of wanted to come here, and I figured why the hell not tonight?"

"I have a cane, and you take me to a playground. Good thinking," he said. "Did I mention **my cane**?"

She was sitting on a swing now, spinning around and staring up at the chains as they tangled together. "Fine," she said, still not looking at him. "I'll play by myself. Just because you don't know how to have fun-"

"Me?" he interrupted. "Not have fun? You _have_ seen me at work, right?"

"Please," she laughed. "That's not fun; that's sarcasm."

He made his way over to the swing set and sat down next to her. "Sarcasm is fun."

"Well," she said, her tone falsely implying that she was about to agree with him. "Yeah, for you. What about your patients?"

"Hey," he said. "I don't think that they care if I'm mean as long as I keep them from dying. They should send me flowers for my sarcasm. Well, maybe not flowers...maybe some nice steak."

She laughed, a loud, free, joyful sound that warmed the cold crinkles of his heart and made him smile.

And, just like the pretend kiss they had shared in the train, it terrified him with the emotions it brought up.

* * *

She was asleep, her forehead leaning against the window, having been thoroughly exhausted from running around so long. He had remained on the same swing the whole time, his cane gently pushing the swing.

How he had gone this entire time without knowing this side of her truly amazed him. How was he to know that locked beneath the quiet, bookworm exterior was a bundle of energy and excitement just demanding that someone find the stupid key, undo the lock, and let it free?

And it appeared that he was the one that held the key that her soul was craving.

It was an oddly terrifying situation, yet it made him surprisingly happy at the same time. Outside of the hospital, he'd never really been anyone's key to life. He'd always found it much easier to stop, sit back, and let something find him. And in a way...this had, too, in the form of a gorgeous brunette who didn't understand the importance of a sheltered heart. The idea was simple, really; don't let anyone in, they can't leave. They don't leave, you don't have a problem.

And then Cameron showed up, slowly but surely weaseling her way into his life. She managed to get through his hard-core outside to reach his equally guarded inside. She pounded and kicked on that casingaround his heart, leaving a fatal dent. The minor infliction (caused by an uncalibrated centrifuge, of all things) didn't seem bad at the time...until she stuck her hand out a few weeks later and whispered a good-bye.

That was the moment that the shell shattered, and all his previous ideals were being smothered by the mass of emotions that she stirred up in him.

And God knows that before she came along, he probably wouldn't have ever smiled at the few hairs flying around her head while the wind from the small opening in the window let air inside the car.

He pulled into his parking place and tapped on her shoulder. "Wake up," he commanded. When she didn't respond, he pushed her lightly. "Cameron," he said. "Hello?" He pushed her shoulder again, perhaps too hard, and her nose smashed into the window.

"Ah!" she cried out, pulling away from the glass and clutching at the tender cartilidge. "What the hell!"

"Good," House said brightly, pushing his door open. "You're awake. We're back at the house. Get out before you drool on my car."

She got out of the car, still rubbing her sore nose, and yawned. "What time is it?"

He stole a glance at his watch. "Around midnight."

She closed her eyes and groaned. "Midnight? Thank God we don't have work tomorrow." She stumbled as she tripped over the sidewalk, and put both hands out to steady herself.

"That was graceful," House commented, looking for his house key. When he found it, he stuck it in the door and waited for Cameron to get to the porch.

"Y'know," she said, inhaling the warm night air through her nose. "This was fun. I had a good time tonight, Mary-Beth aside." She looked up at him through lowered lashes, a look that probably wasn't meant to be incredibly sexy yet managed to be at the same time. "Did...you have a good time?"

He tilted his head at her, contemplating the question. Had he had fun? He certainly hadn't been bored...Her company provided a myriad of playful bantering sessions and swirling emotions inside of his mind. He'd had fun with her; too much 'fun' for the two of them to remain (or become) friends. So that meant there was only one answer to her question: "Sure. I had a good time."

"Good," she breathed, and before she could stop and understand what she was doing, she leaned up and gave him what they had both been wanting since that day on the train. Her kiss was just that; a short, sweet brushing of the skin, and as soon as their lips made contact she pulled away and placed a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. Quickly, she turned and twisted the key in the lock, letting herself into his house. She was on her way to the stairs when his hand grabbed her arm.

She closed her eyes and turned to face him, opening her lids to see him regarding her with a thoughtful expression. She opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, but her question was cut off.

By what? Nothing other than the surprisingly smooth lips of one hard-shelled Dr.Greg House.

Her noise of surprise was caught by his lips, and he used the advantage to begin a thorough - and completely necessary - exploration of her mouth with his tongue.

She melted under his touch, his left hand on the small of her back being the only thing holding her up.

On his part, House was enjoying the reaction he was getting, and the method of _how_ he was getting it. Her small, incidental kiss on the front porch had officially broken him down, wiping all his ridiculous ethical concerns right out of his mind. Her kiss was awakening things in him that he had been convinced dead long ago.

And, not wanting the real world to intrude on their private moment, he stuck out his cane and pushed the front door closed, the normally loud object shutting with a soft 'click'.

On the inside of the house, House's suit jacket had been shoved off his shoulders, his tie loosened, unraveled, and in a strange pile by his foot, and the first few buttons on his shirt undone. Cameron's hair was no longer confined to it's clip, and spilled across her shoulders. One of the straps to her dress was halfway to falling off her shoulder completely, and she had to pull away for air. "We..." she breathed. "We should...do this again sometime. The 'not-a-date' thing. Except...maybe without the 'not'..."

House's only repsonse was to cup the back of her head to bring her lips back to the place he thought they should never leave. And suddenly, the hold that had been left in him since Stacy was filled with Allison Cameron's love.

And he was going to do damn well everything in his power to make sure that she stayed there.

For good.

* * *

**_THE END_**

(sniff, sniff) i'm so sad, you guys. this was my first multi-chapter fic, and i'm happy that it was accepted. thanks to everyone of you who reviewed (especially merrie, who entertained me with her love for a naughty House.) thanks to BA for telling me to get off my arse and write chapter seven before you guys got irritated with me, and thanks to those who put up with me and my whacked out updating.

Thanks again, and House/Cameron forever!

**peace out.**


End file.
